


To Write Love On His Arms

by LiquidLobotomy



Series: A Good Man Goes to War [12]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Come Eating, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hand Jobs, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, being mathias is suffering, flynn is so good for mathias, tattoo fic if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28926162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiquidLobotomy/pseuds/LiquidLobotomy
Summary: Mathias learns to heal through his grief while Flynn is away on a contract for Cyrus; Flynn makes a mark as an act of compassion and commitment.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw, Taelia Fordragon/Anduin Wrynn
Series: A Good Man Goes to War [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923286
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	To Write Love On His Arms

**Author's Note:**

> _And I know I’ve left you lost  
>  And I know I’ve left you torn  
> But I’ve never been so sure  
> As I am when I’m with you  
> Now I can never be without you_  
> Rooftops and Invitations: Re-record - Dashboard Confessional
> 
> Much thanks to @bideru for the beta read before posting. Reference to her fic The Muffin Thief  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584483
> 
> Trigger warnings for conversations alluding to attempted suicide and bad mental state.

_Tides_ , Flynn thought idly, _this is a bad idea._

The morning light hadn’t quite broken through the crevice between the thick, woolen curtains of the upstairs bedroom when Flynn had become aware of what he thought was frankly a naughty albeit delicious dream. He cracked open an eye, finding Shaw’s head between his legs, already working his morning arousal, and tides be _damned_ if the sight wasn’t painstakingly beautiful.

 _Yep._ Definitely _a bloody bad idea_ , he thought again as his hand reached down, fingers threading through fire-red tresses. A bad idea that felt so bloody good as Mathias pulled off his length to lick long strokes against his shaft, nibbling at the head with gentle teeth before swallowing him down again. Flynn groaned when he felt the press of his lover’s aquiline nose against the line of hair that crept from his navel in a trail to his groin, his cock enveloped in the velvet heat of the spymaster’s mouth.

It had only been a few days. Mathias had sought out his lover’s touch when he had woken late that first evening after everything had gone so wrong, and it took all of Flynn’s conviction to stop his hand. _Not like this, not while it hurts._ It burned him to the core to see the look of frustrating scorn upon the redhead’s face. _I know you want to take the pain away, mate, but not if we’ll both regret it later. You trust me, yeah?_ Mathias had conceded reluctantly, and Flynn vowed to give him what he always gave him: time and patience. 

Their abstinence lasted only two nights. It was when Mathias had rolled over to face him in bed, whispering four words that caused him to shiver down to his toes: _Do you trust me?_ The very thread of his resolve snapped and he grabbed the pot of slick from the bedside table with a growl, flipping his broken partner on his back so fast it almost made him dizzy.

But, oh, he took his time, tending to Mathias with a gentle hand and careful touch. 

They had agreed upon setting strict terms: no waking the other up to sex and Flynn on top, as Shaw’s control was too unpredictable. The arrangement would be temporary and only served in making sure that neither would be left taken advantage of by the other. 

Mathias started sucking earnestly in cadence to the soft mewls of Flynn’s uncontrolled appreciation. He was getting so close. Feeling the insistent prod of a slicked finger at his entrance, his brain tried to tell him to stop this before it went wildly out of hand. His body had other ideas, however, his seed spilling into Mathias’ mouth, his body alight with deep shudders. His breath came in sharp gasps off the riptide of his orgasm, but he found the sense to grab his lover’s wrist to stop him from getting any further trying to breach his hole. 

“Nonononono,” he chided, pulling them both to sit up. He regarded the spymaster, lips formed into a firm line under his ungroomed moustache, his cheeks showing the telltale sign of being full. “Wotcha gonna do with that, hm?” He smirked as Mathias glared at him. “Go on, then. Get it down. Nice and easy like.”

Mathias swallowed indignantly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing. “There, happy?”

“You were going to spit that at me, weren’t you?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmhmm,” Flynn replied with a nod, his hand still loosely grasping the spymaster’s wrist, his thumb tracing gentle circles against the pale, freckled skin. “We talked about this. You’ve already broken one rule, and I’m willing to let it slide, because _fuck_ , mate.” He let go of his wrist and ran his fingers along the stubble of the older man’s jaw, Shaw’s eyes slipping closed as he leaned into the touch. “And I know that you want to get your jollies off, but I’m not letting you anywhere near _there_ until you’ve evened yourself out.”

“I’m fine,” Mathias growled softly, as he tried to shirk away from the captain’s hand. 

“Yeah, well,” Flynn sighed as he let his fingers slip away, “you nearly poisoning yourself with two full bottles of whiskey while begging an assassin to kill you, then pulling a dagger on me the next morning, begs otherwise.”

Valeera hadn’t been wrong when she had told the captain that Shaw shouldn’t be left to his own devices for a time. He had come out of his slumber kicking and with a blade from under his pillow in hand. Flynn had to grapple the slippery rogue to get the second elixir the elf had left on the nightstand down his throat to knock him back out. He had rushed to get Taelia from the keep to help him sweep the flat, taking every weapon along with his poison supplies back to the keep for his own safety. Anduin, meanwhile, had alerted Renzik to the situation and they, in turn, worked with Doc Mixilpixil to prescribe a stock of peacebloom elixirs, half of them laced with spineleaf for sleeping and emergencies. When next Shaw woke that afternoon, he was less than pleased.

“I’m not a child, Flynn,” Mathias groused, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, gripping the bed sheet until his knuckles went white.

“No, you’re not,” Flynn responded, placing his hand on the back of his lover’s bowed neck, rubbing deep circles into his tightened flesh. “And I count myself lucky you chose alcohol that night instead of something stronger from your poison stores.”

The spymaster grunted. “I wouldn’t have,” he muttered. “I couldn’t do that to you.”

“You nearly did,” Flynn reminded him, pointedly. 

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Mathias said, his voice small and vulnerable. Flynn felt a small shake under his hand, a tell that his lover didn’t want to succumb to that admission.

“Me, too,” he whispered, nuzzling Shaw’s temple as he had done thousands of times before, “but I have to. Cyrus is ready to give away my berth unless I get my arse down there to switch the ships and train a crew for the ‘ _Wake_.” He slipped his other hand down, feather soft against the spymaster’s pale skin, finding Mathias’ dick, the thick erection hot and strainingly tight in his palm. “A job’s still a job, mate, and I can’t keep shirking him about. S’not fair on him to keep backing up contracts he only trusts me on. He’s still a business to run, just like you have work to do when you’re ready.” 

Flynn began a lazy stroke, feeling the turgid flesh twitch in his hand. He leaned in and drew the redhead’s earlobe into his mouth, biting gently with his teeth before trailing licks, nips and kisses behind Mathias’ jaw and down his neck, earning small even gasps in return. A quiet growl escaped the back of his throat as a hand joined his. Fingers entangled around the length and they began to tug and pull together, the pace quickening until Mathias splashed hot fluid across their hands, his body wracking with aftershocks against him. 

The captain closed his eyes with a soft whine as the spymaster brought up their hands and licked the cum clean from both.

Flynn blew out a breath, disentangling himself and lifting from the bed to set about reluctantly getting dressed as well as packing his sea-bag. He stopped at the bookshelf in the corner, running his finger along the spines to find something to throw in with his effects to keep himself occupied for the nights he didn’t have watch. His eyes fell upon a familiar, thin book nestled between _Stormy Seas_ and his precious first edition of _Proper Harbingers_ , sea-green with bronze leaf adorning the spine. _Well, that’s interesting_ , he thought with a smirk as he discreetly plucked _The Chasm of Shadows_ from its resting place and tossed it into his pack next to his shave-kit.

“Taelia should be ‘round in about a bell-chime,” he said as he continued to put himself and his sea-bag together to make ready for the portal to Boralus. “Might want to make yourself a little decent.” He rifled through a drawer in the chifferobe, finding Mathias’ oversized jumper that he had worn on cold nights aboard the _Lion’s Whelp_ and stuffed it into his pack. “She’s got a schedule figured out so that someone will be with you during the day. No work.” 

“Ridiculous,” Mathias muttered under his breath.

“Your next elixir is on the nightstand,” Flynn continued, ignoring him. “Tae’s got that covered as well.” He shouldered the bag and crossed over to the spymaster, lifting the older man’s chin with a finger to meet his gaze. “Don’t give her a hard time, she’s just as worried as I am.” He leaned in and kissed him, his tongue begging purchase so that he could taste what still lingered of their combined flavors in Shaw’s mouth. “I’ll be back in less than a fortnight, possibly sooner if the crew is up to par.” He fixed his lover with a pointed gaze. “Behave yourself and take your dose.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Mathias droned sourly, earning a chuckle and eye roll from Fairwind. 

“ _Behave_ , and perhaps I’ll consider you finishing what you started when I come home. You trust me, yeah?” 

“I trust you.”

Mathias heaved a deep sigh as the captain ducked out of their bedroom, listening for the thundering footfalls down the spiral staircase and crept over to the window, watching as his beloved stepped out onto the cobbled pavement of the central alley, turning out onto the high street leading towards the opposite end of the city. 

He threw on a pair of sleeping breeches and scurried downstairs. He only had about a half of a bell’s chime before the girl would be down the tunnel and into his flat, so he had to hurry. He flipped open the trapdoor in the middle of his living room, lowering himself into the crawlspace tunnel that led to Stormwind Keep. Just to the side of the ladder, he pushed aside an inconspicuous canvas, painted to camouflage itself into the dirt wall, revealing an old battered trunk tucked away. He pushed open the lid, grabbing two bottles of Wayfarer Red out of the case stashed within, along with a pair of worn, yet cared for and sharpened daggers, as well as a sheathed hunting knife, the initials _B.A._ carved crudely into the handle. He slammed the trunk shut and pulled the canvas back in place before rushing back up the ladder. He tucked the knife under the seat of the chair next to the hearth before rounding the spiral staircase back to the bedroom he shared with the pirate.

He closed the door behind him, moving quickly to his bookcase in the corner. At the bottom of the shelving, he toed at a series of books, revealing a secret cubby that he knew Flynn and Taelia couldn’t have thought about in their sweep of the flat. He slipped the bottles and daggers within before closing over the false front, pushing it in and hearing it click shut before eyeing the elixir on the nightstand. 

He crossed the room and picked up the vial, clicking his jaw. He was done being coddled. Knowing that Taelia would take the tunnel and not the front entrance, he flicked open his window, uncorked the elixir, and poured it out onto the awning below before crawling back into his bed, missing the fair captain already.

@}—>—

“What’s got you in a snit,” Cyrus asked with a raised eyebrow. Flynn had watched him shuffle paperwork for the better part of a half bell’s chime as he started on his second cup of coffee in the harbormaster’s office, itching to get out onto the sea-lanes.

“I left Mathias in a right state,” the captain admitted, exhaling a deep breath and averting his glance. “He’s dealing with some overwhelmingly deep shit, and I’m not rather fond of leaving him as he is.” 

“You should have said something,” the old Kul Tiran chided, pulling out a list and running a finger over it.

Flynn let out an indignant snort. “And let you give away my berth? Job still has to get done, yeah?”

“Aye,” Cyrus nodded. “Here’s the roster of candidates. They should be lined up near the Arva. I’ve already got some strongbacks pulling the ‘ _Wake_ from her drydock for you, should be ready to go in the morn.”

Flynn skimmed over the parchment, his brow furrowing. “Melli’s going with Nailor.”

“I thought she was staying with you.” 

“Not since before the Northrend expedition.” 

Cyrus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “When’s the wedding?”

Flynn smirked. He wasn’t unaware of the pair’s affections for each other, and Nailor had been a tad maudlin during their trip north. The helmsman had pulled him aside just before setting the Lion’s Whelp back into her drydock that fateful day to give him the news.

“Sometime during Springtide. Ceremony’s set up in Stormsong. I’ll make sure you get an invite.”

“There’s a lad,” the old Kul Tiran’s smirk softened into a fond grin. “Tandred’s got an apprentice sage training with Laurel on board. Name of Rose. A bit wet behind the ears, but she’s good. She’s small, but from what I understand she’s quick.”

“I’ll take her. If she’s been working in Tand’s company, I’m sure she’s top notch,” he commended. “So, Nailor and Melli are going to set out with the _Arva’s_ crew for Stormwind, help get them settled and the like, then hop the portal back. I’ll get the ‘ _Wake_ around the island, picking up that haul in Mechagon, then trek back around from Stormsong. Give me a good idea of what we’re working with and make sure they’re trained proper. They should do well under Nailor once he takes over.”

“And with any bit of the Tidemother’s good fortune, you may come in ahead of schedule to get your bony arse back to your mate.” 

Flynn nodded, knocking back the rest of his coffee and setting the mug on the corner of Cyrus’ desk. “Good fortune, indeed,” he muttered as he rose from his seat. He shook the harbormaster’s hand and turned out of the office to greet his crew of newly recruited miscreants.

@}—>—

Mathias silently opened his bedroom door the next afternoon, the muffled sounds of conversation having wafted up and jostling him from his slumber. He kept out of line of sight, merely listening.

“I am not certain that I understand the point of this game.” Mathias heard the soft rumble of Rell Nightwind’s distinct timbre.

“It’s fun and it passes the time.” The spymaster smiled softly to himself at Taelia’s tinkling Kul Tiran accent. “And in some social circles, you end up stealing coin off your friends, or your enemies. Mostly we just use whoever has the fattest coin purse and put it all back when we’re done.”

“What is the point of the coins?”

“So, whenever you pull a King, you take the pot. At the end of the hand, whoever has the most coin wins.”

“And this card?”

“Oh, that’s the Jack. He’s a bit of a nasty flirt.” A pause. “The Jack works two ways. If you have queens on the board, he works like a King at the end of the hand. If not, then he’s just a lout who’s worth next to nothing.” 

“That only seems to overcomplicate the process.”

“Best not to overthink it much. And this one, this is a Joker. Now this blighter…”

Mathias let her voice trail off with a bittersweet smile as he tucked back into his bedroom, closing the door just as silently as he had opened it. He noticed a fresh elixir on the nightstand. He swiped it up and crossed to the window, pouring out the contents again before tossing the vial into the dustbin next to the others he had deposited before crawling back into his bed. 

Edwin had been fond of cheating with Jokers. 

@}—>—

Mathias next emerged from his bedchamber mid-afternoon a day and a half later, his joints stiff from sleep and his stomach protesting its emptiness. He stopped at the bottom of the spiral staircase, finding Taelia and Anduin at his table, feeling a bit intrusive as they bowed their heads together in conversation. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Oh hey,” Taelia greeted with a soft smile. She lifted from the chair she had been occupying, gesturing for him to come and sit. “You hungry, love?”

Mathias flicked his glance between the two, his belly roaring at him at the inclination of food. He stepped into his makeshift kitchen and sat down, a plate of crusty bread, smoked cheese and salted pork appearing before him. He didn’t flinch when the girl pushed her fingers through his hair as he took a bite. 

“Alright then, you two,” she announced as she drew her hand away. “I know you have quite a bit to discuss, so I’ll be just down the tunnel if you need me.” She tugged on Mathias’ ear which he did try to shirk off. “Don’t forget your elixir.” He watched around a bite of cheese as she ducked down the trapdoor and out of sight.

“There’s coffee, too, if you’re inclined,” Anduin began softly. Mathias exhaled and nodded. He’d all but forgotten coffee.

His eyes didn’t leave the young king as he rose and set about grabbing a mug from the cupboard above the sink, pouring out the thick, acrid brew for him. As Anduin sat back down, his gaze fell on the familiar file and sketchbook layered neatly before the young king. He choked down the bite of bread dryly.

“Where did you get those?” he asked quietly, cautiously, his glance moving between the King’s face and the folder.

“Valeera brought them to me,” Anduin admitted.

Mathias sat back from his plate, folding his arms across his chest protectively. “So, that’s it then? Last meal before I’m hauled off to the stocks?” His voice was soft, even and neutral. 

“What? Mathias, no. What makes you think I’d call for your arrest?” Anduin asked incredulously.

“It’s all there,” the spymaster tipped his head towards the folder. “All the evidence you would ever need to mark me as a traitor.”

The young king looked down at the folder before him dumbfounded. “I’ve read through every entry and piece of documentation. Twice. I did my own research, cross referencing this file with the public records. I have found _nothing_ that would convince me that you’ve ever been disloyal to the Kingdom.” He paused. Shaw saw a flicker of something akin to discomfort perhaps, cross Anduin’s face quickly. “Or my family,” he added as he pulled a parchment from the dossier and inspected it thoughtfully. He turned the document around and slid it before the spymaster.

Mathias slowly uncrossed his arms and leaned forward against the lacquered surface, scrutinizing the young man sitting adjacent to him. He dropped his gaze down to the document, reading over the familiar calligraphic penmanship of Anduin’s penmanship, a soft gasp escaping his lips.

_BY ROYAL DECREE OF THE THE KINGDOM OF STORMWIND AND THE MOST NOBLE HOUSE OF WRYNN:  
NOW THEREFORE BE IT KNOWN -  
THAT I, **ANDUIN LLANE WRYNN** , KING OF STORMWIND AND HIGH KING OF THE ALLIANCE, IN CONSIDERATION OF THE PREMISES, DIVERS OTHER GOOD AND SUFFICIENT REASONS ME THEREUNTO MOVING, DO HEREBY GRANT, POSTHUMOUSLY, **EDWIN VANCLEEF** OF THE STONEMASONS GUILD, A FULL AND UNCONDITIONAL PARDON.  
IN TESTIMONY WHEREOF, I HAVE HEREUNTO WRITTEN BY MY HAND AND CAUSED THE SEAL OF THE ALLIANCE AND DONE IN THE CAPITAL OF STORMWIND._

_SIGNED THIS TWENTY-THIRD DAY OF OCTOBER IN THE YEAR THIRTY-NINE._  
HIS ROYAL MAJESTY  
ANDUIN LLANE WRYNN 

Shaw brought up a hand and covered his mouth. He knew that Anduin was no stranger to issuing clemency to those he thought were deserving. The Black Prince came to mind, a political necessity that he, himself, was reluctant to agree with. He never anticipated, however, that a royal decree with the words _pardon_ and _Edwin VanCleef_ within the same paragraph would ever grace his fingertips. Yet, here it was, officially sealed with the royal blue and gold wax stamp adorned with the lionhead of the Kingdom, writ and signed by the King sitting in his modest flat next to him. 

“Lad, I—“ he blinked in disbelief, running his eyes across the script over and over. 

“Mathias,” Anduin soothed, “I know you have been dealing with quite a lot the past few days. It was important for me to find at least some way to offer you some form of respite from what torments you.”

“Edwin’s machinations led to the death of countless innocents, your mother. How can you—“

“It was an unfortunate circumstance,” Anduin interrupted, holding up a hand, “orchestrated by the vitriol of members of the House of Nobles, as well as the ill-placed ambitions of royal councillors, that took my mother’s life. I’m not my father. I cannot in good conscience fault good, hard-working men who merely wanted to ensure the survival of their families.” 

“The nobles will have your hide for this,” Mathias carefully tried to point out. “Not to mention, the council. Ms Sanguinar.” 

“They need not to know. This stays between you and me.” Anduin let out a soft pensive breath. “And one other, if she would be agreeable.”

Mathias furrowed his brow, the name popping into his mind. “Vanessa?”

Anduin nodded. “You already know that I’ve taken lengths to help the people of Westfall. The stimulus that we provided some time ago has done much in allowing them to rebuild. However, I’m not so naive that it’s escaped my attention that there’s still Defias loyalty hidden in those fields. I would like to arrange a private meeting with Ms VanCleef regarding this to hopefully mend some of the recourse of the past generations. To put a peaceful end to that chapter and show those families that they are not forgotten. Quietly and once you’re back to your duties of course.” 

The spymaster knew that due to her services to the Uncrowned, Vanessa VanCleef held amnesty to briefly enter the city on official business. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

“I appreciate it, Mathias.” Shaw watched the young king look down at his clasped hands over the folder. “Was Freemore an honorable man?”

Mathias considered the question for a moment. It all of a sudden seemed strange to him, the realization that with the exception of the book resting under Anduin’s palm and the work he did for the organization, the spymaster hardly knew much about his grandfather at all. He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly.

“He obviously kept a fair amount of secrets from me, as you can see. But to my knowledge, he wasn’t dishonest in the fraction of words we have exchanged over the years.” 

“May I speak plainly?” 

“Yes, of course.”

“If anyone had ever committed treason against the crown, it would have been _her_.” Mathias snapped his eyes to meet Anduin’s, clear and unflinching. “What she did to you, to your family, to _him_ , and justifying it all in the name of the Kingdom? It’s unconscionable. If she were still alive today, I would see her in chains. Or _hanged_ ,” the King added, his voice low and dangerous. 

Shaw’s breath hitched. He could count the number of times he could see the young man’s father come through in Anduin’s words or gestures. The way he would call order among a disgruntled council, the way he sometimes held a tankard of ale, his stubbornness, his young temper. But at that moment, the growl to his tone and the steel of his eyes, the young Lion of Stormwind disappeared and he was face to face again with Varian, the Great Wolf. A pregnant pause lingered between them, at last broken when Anduin handed the spymaster a gnomish self-inking pen. 

“It would be a great honor if you would sign this decree as witness, Spymaster,” the young king said formally, a smile gracing his face.

Mathias took the pen in his hand, light to the touch. He took a deep breath and signed the parchment proudly. He exhaled, an overwhelming sense of _relief_ washing over him that he had never felt in all of thirty years. 

He startled as the document slipped from under his fingertips, Anduin placing it back into the dossier, pushing it and the sketchbook aside. The spymaster watched curiously as the King reached into his satchel, pulling out a sack of coin and dropping it on the table between them.

“Now that that is settled, how about you teach me how to play Emperors?” 

Mathias let out a soft chuckle, and for once, the thought of Edwin VanCleef gave him peace.

@}—>—

Flynn retired to his cabin, his belly full and his mind adrift to thoughts of his mate back in Stormwind. He poured himself a glass of Wayfarer Doubledark, swirling the liquid before taking a swig. 

The crew that Cyrus had recruited for him proved to be on par, working together effortlessly and more than eager to follow his lead. Rose, the apprentice sage he had plucked from Tandred’s ship, impressed him tenfold. The harbormaster wasn’t wrong; she was a small, young thing, not quite seventeen, and already she could handle the girth of the _Middenwake_ with ease, already putting them two full days ahead of schedule. She was, however, a bit on the shy side, and clearly overwhelmed by her first solo venture. He made sure no one was paying attention when he slipped an extra lemon cake onto her plate as he left the mess for the evening.

The captain dropped unceremoniously into his chair, scrubbing a hand down his face. With a sigh, he pulled his log book in front of him, jotting down notes of the day as well as a list of plans for the morning. He took another swig as he grabbed for a wayward chart to cross reference, revealing his tatty field journal. 

He pushed the map and his captain’s log aside, dragging the journal in front of him. He set down his whiskey glass and flipped through the yellowed pages, perusing through the various notes and sketches, many from the inspection trip he had accompanied his lover on. Partway through the scrawled parchments, his eyes fell upon a sketch of a curved blade, the letters WF marked in the corner, and a hasty inscription scratched next to the sword. 

_Cruel Barb, blade of Edwin VanCleef._

It had been so much for Mathias to openly tell him about his time with Edwin. The conversation had taken three full days, and Flynn let him take his time. He knew that it was an immense undertaking of his spymaster’s trust in him to open that door and let him in. He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking of what Taelia had briefly told him was in the old man’s sketchbook. His heart twinged at what must be going on in Mathia’s head, that everything his lover had known turned out to be a lie.

He flipped through to more recent entries, drawings he had idly pencilled in during their excursions north when his best friend and his lover were occupied playing cards. Several pages were adorned with sketches of roses, his thoughts filled with the image of the small bud that had been placed in his hand just before they left port.

_Don’t let him get caught up in his unfailing loyalty to the Crown, else you’ll be leaving roses on the grave next to hers. I believe red would suit him best._

Flynn furrowed his brow and looked down at his left arm, bare and free of ink, an idea blooming in his mind’s eye. He did a rundown of time through his head, counting the days until they would be back in Boralus Harbor. At the rate at which they had been sailing around the whole of Kul Tiras, and with the talent his new tidesage had already demonstrated, they were well ahead of schedule. 

He scrambled through the detritus of his desk, finding a small nub of drawing graphite as he flipped to a clean page. His hand worked, the images flowing onto the parchment with ease until he was nearly satisfied. There was still something missing that he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

Flynn scratched at the stubble along his jaw as he stared at the sketch. It would have to do for now. He drained his glass and kicked off his boots, flopping onto his soft bed, thinking it was far emptier than he would have liked.

@}—>—

“You know, Boss,” Renzik broached carefully, “I _was_ instructed to not let you work.” 

Mathias looked up from the documents with a raised eyebrow. “This is hardly work, Shiv.” He ran a finger down the parchment, making a note in his ledger. “The will needs to be filed with the magistrates by tomorrow to become official so that the dowries can be distributed. I’ll need to have you deliver writs to the orphanage and to Allison at the Rose.”

“Yeah, about that.” Shiv pulled a thin dossier from his satchel and placed it on the small kitchen table. He didn’t open the file, only tapped it a few times. “Look, something didn’t sit right about the innkeeper,” he began. “I mean, why would the old man set her with such a stipend. So,” he dragged out the sound, “I did some digging.”

Mathias furrowed his brow. “Shiv,” he said, warning in his soft tone.

“She’s clean.” The goblin spread his hands in surrender. “I ran the check twice. Parents on record died in a fire in Westfall, and she came to Stormwind with an older brother, but he disappeared off public record some thirty-odd years ago.” Renzik paused, inhaling a sharp breath. “I checked into the cold files and the only thing that could be a possible match was this old, completed missive.” He drew a yellowed parchment from the dossier and handed it to Shaw. “That’s you, ain’t it, Boss?”

Mathias skimmed over the missive, his first assignment and his stomach lurched at what it meant to him now. He bit his bottom lip hard before handing it back to Renzik. “Put it back and don’t worry about it,” he commanded softly.

“You sure?”

Mathias nodded. “I’d rather it go forgotten, if you wouldn’t mind. Don’t go bothering Ms Bristol about it, either.”

“Consider it done,” Renzik replied, his lips tight, placing the missive back into the folder. A gentle knock rapped at the door as he packed the file into his satchel. “I’ll grab it,” he remarked, hopping from his seat and crossing over to open the door, his wife Theresa poking her head in.

“I’m not interrupting you boys, am I?” she asked as Renzik went back to his seat in front of the hearth while she placed a basket on the table. Her husband made no qualms over eyeing it with a furrowed brow.

“Not especially, no,” Mathias answered, rubbing his forehead. He flicked a glance at the basket. “What’s that?” The smell of warm chocolate laced with raspberries wafted through the room as he lifted the cloth to peer inside.

Renzik was way ahead of him. “Those are faerie cakes,” he said suspiciously.

“Yes, they are,” his wife replied with a nod of her head.

“You made faerie cakes.”

“Yes, I did.”

“When you have a mountain of orders ahead of the Winter Veil Ball.”

“Yes, I do.”

Renzik paused, his face growing incredulous. “The fuck, _why_?”

Theresa placed her hands on her hips and shot him an incredulous glare. “Did _your_ grandad die?” she asked accusingly. Mathias shot Renzik an exasperated, pointed look.

“Yes!” the goblin squawked indignantly.

“Yeah?” she chided. “When?”

“Eight years ago,” her husband grumbled. “But it feels like it was yesterday,” he added insistently.

“Uh huh,” she clicked her jaw. “Mathias? Don’t let him have any.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” the goblin groused, his voice pitched to a squeak. Mathias’ eyebrows raised into his hairline. “You _never_ bake faerie cakes!” 

“Not one lick, Ren.” She waved a finger at him. “I mean it.” Her husband crossed his arms over his chest in a huff as her face softened, just a bit. “When are you home?”

Renzik scrubbed a hand down his face thoughtfully before propping his elbow on the table to let his cheek rest against the back of his hand. “Rell should be taking over in about a bell’s chime, but I still have some closing up shop at the office. So… ninth bell or so?”

Theresa gave a small nod. “Good. I’ll have a cold plate waiting for you.” 

“ _Cold plate?_ ” Renzik moaned.

“Don’t push your luck, Ren,” she replied with pursed lips and a tilt of her head. “My condolences to you, Mathias.” 

The spymaster gave a short nod as Renzik’s wife ducked out the door. “You told her?” he scolded once the door had shut.

“She wasn’t too thrilled when I said I had to take your workload and hours again this soon after you’d gotten back. You know I can’t lie to her, Boss, and she was really looking forward to the extra time together since she’s about to get real busy at the shop.”

Mathias chewed on the inside of his cheek. It wasn’t Renzik’s fault that he had been directed back on leave by both the King and the good doctor at SI:7. He gave a small jerk of his head towards the basket. “Go on. Take one,” he offered.

Renzik’s eyes went wide and his ears fell back sheepishly. “What?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“I know she bakes them way less often than her muffins. I won’t tell her if you won’t.”

A bright grin spread across the goblin’s face and he quickly plucked a ganache coated cake from its brothers in the basket, taking a quick bite to reveal the whipped raspberry creme nestled inside. “You’re a pal, Boss,” he said around a mouthful of cake. 

Mathias let out a soft, mirthless snort as he shook his head, dragging his attention back to the documents in front of him.

@}—>—

_“Listen,” said Crowley urgently, “the point is that when the hawkstrider has worn the precipice down to nothing, right, then—”_

_Aziraphale opened his mouth. Crowley just knew he was going to make some point about the relative durability of hawkstriders’ peckers and blackrock mountains, and plunged on quickly._

“—then _you still won’t have finished reading The Sound of Music.”_

Mathias ground his teeth, wincing as he felt the squeak against the enamel. He had read the same damned passage in _Proper Harbingers_ at least five times now, his attention continually drawn away to the girl bustling around his flat. He shifted in the old armchair, letting out an irritable grunt as he tried to continue on, finding himself driven to distraction.

“Must you insist on scouring my flat every time you’re here, Lass?” he groused exasperatedly. “I’m more than capable of cleaning after myself.”

Taelia froze on her way to the loo with a bucket in one hand and a scrubber in the other. “Yeah, but frankly, you’re pretty shit at it,” she said as she disappeared past the pocket door.

Mathias rolled his eyes with a soft chuckle and a shake of his head at the poor girl’s cry of disgust.

He propped his elbow on the armrest of the chair, leaning his cheek against the back of his hand as he flipped the page, making an effort to move past the previous passage. He had just gotten through two paragraphs when a soft rap sounded at his door, a groan escaping his lips. He closed his book, tucked it next to him in the chair and started to rise when Taelia emerged from the loo, drying her hands on a small towel.

“Just sit your arse, down,” she muttered as she crossed the room, startling when she opened the door. “Oh.”

“He around?” came a softened voice, just out of his line of sight.

“Yeah,” the girl replied, standing aside. “Come on in,” she offered.

At the sight of Allison the innkeeper, Mathias lifted himself from his chair, moving cautiously towards the pair lingering at the door. 

“I’ll just… run upstairs and strip the bed,” Taelia stammered. She gave a quick nod to the two and dashed up the spiral staircase and out of sight, leaving Mathias and Allison to chat. Mathias rubbed his forehead awkwardly as the silence between them grew cloyingly thick. 

“I wanted to come by and thank you, for taking care of the dowry so quickly,” Allison broached. “It will be of good use. Been wanting to do some repairs and renovations to the inn for a while now.”

Mathias nodded. “I look forward to seeing it,” he replied softly. 

“I will need to have the flat tended to soon as well,” she continued. 

“Are you planning on letting it?” he asked curiously.

Allison shook her head. “No, I figured I would go ahead and take it over for myself. It’s a bit bigger than my place in Cathedral Square and it’d be nice to be closer to the inn.”

“I’m probably going to leave the furniture, so you can do what you will with that. I’ll send the lass and Fairwind over when he returns to go through the rest of Freemore’s effects.” Mathias bit his upper lip thoughtfully for a moment. “Listen, Renzik did some snooping, and I wanted to apolo—”

Allison held up her hand, interrupting him. “Don’t,” she said, not unkindly. “You and I, we’re not family. I don’t think we ever will be. I don’t even really like you.”

“Oh,” the spymaster replied, taken aback by her forwardness.

“I don’t like you because you’re a twat and a right shit to my barmaids,” she amended with a soft smile. “Although, you’ve been better lately. I have your handsome friend to thank for that, don’t I?”

Mathias gave a sheepish nod, biting the corner of his bottom lip. The innkeeper’s face softened empathetically.

“I don’t blame you, Mathias, never have.” He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “I’ve known for a while now. I think I’m the only one Waltion ever confided in. Don’t beat yourself up about it. It was a long time ago, and there’s not much we can do about it now.” She blew out a breath and held out a small parcel to him. “Here, thought you could do with a spot of lunch as a gesture of sympathy and goodwill. There’s enough for you and your friend upstairs.” 

The spymaster took the linen wrapped dish, still warm to the touch. Judging by the scent wafting from the small opening where the cloth was tied, tucked inside was his usual order of roasted brisket in red wine with mushrooms and potatoes, as well as a half loaf of fresh crusty bread. It was one of Allison’s specialties and a favorite of his whenever he darkened the Rose’s door. 

“I should go. The dinner rush will be starting shortly and I’ve left Anna by herself.” She reached out and gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “If you ever need anything, Mathias, you know where to find me.”

After shutting the door behind her, the spymaster placed the parcel by the hearthfire to keep it warm. He glanced up, finding Taelia coming back down the staircase, her arms loaded with dirty laundry. 

“You alright?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

“Not really,” he replied honestly. He inhaled a sharp breath, changing the subject. “She brought lunch, however, if you’re hungry.”

Taelia dropped the linens next to the sink and joined him at the table with a warm smile.

@}—>—

“Permission to come aboard!” Nailor called from the dock as the _Middenwake_ pulled into her newly acquired berth, Melli at his side. Flynn beamed as he regarded the little welcoming party and waved a hand.

“You heard him, lads. Lower the bloody plank, already,” he commanded, shouldering his sea-bag. 

Flynn had grown a bit antsy on the last few hours of the voyage, itching to get on land. The thought had surprised him as quickly as it had come. He was beside himself with delight that the crew that had been requisitioned for him were eager and hardworking, getting them back to Boralus with plenty of time to spare. He scuttled off the ship as they worked to get everything in order, scooping up Melli in a bear hug and clapping Nailor on the shoulder. 

“Welcome back, Captain,” the sage quipped with a warm smirk.

“She’s about to be yours soon,” he said to the sailor proudly. “We’ve a contract lined up in about a month’s time, but you and I will run it together to ease the transition.” He flicked a glance back at Melli. “I’m sure Rose will appreciate one more run with a master sage. Though she’s pretty damned good. Floated this old girl smartly. I’m sure the _Arva_ will pose no challenge.”

“I suppose we should hop aboard and greet the crew, see if we can be of help then,” Nailor offered, taking Melli by the hand to slip past him. 

Flynn nodded after them, readjusting the strap of his pack on his shoulder. As they passed, the captain tilted his head and regarded the figure hanging a pace away from them. 

“The great Captain Proudmoore waiting for the _Middenwake_ to pull back into port? I never thought I’d see the day,” he mused, closing the distance between them with a hug for the Lord Admiral’s brother. 

“Yeah, well,” Tandred replied nonchalantly as he pulled back, straightening the lapels on Flynn’s greatcoat, “someone had to stand in for your best mate. Tae’s still in Stormwind, yeah?”

“Eh, that’s still on a bit of the ol’ hush-hush. How’s the rounds been on the _Melody_?” 

“Absolutely horrid,” the young Proudmoore teased. “ _You_ , my friend, stole my tidesage.” 

“I did no such thing!” Flynn scoffed. “She was an apprentice and you already have a full-time sage. Let the girl spread her sails and the like.” 

Tandred shook his head with a laugh. “You in a rush to get back to your fair spymaster? Or do you have time to grab a drink at the Snug Harbor?” he asked, throwing his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the Tradewinds.

“I wish I could, Tand. I just need to swing by Inksprocket’s then I’m back through the portal.”

The young Proudmoore raised an eyebrow. “The scribe shop? You thinking of getting some new ink?”

“Aye, haven’t been able to even get in for a touchup during the war campaigns. Zooey’s been too busy.”

Tandred flashed him a wink. “Want for me to tag along? Hold your hand while you sob like a little girl?”

“I do not,” Flynn groused with a roll of his eyes as he started a casual stride towards the trade market, the other man falling in step beside him.

“Oh but you do, mate,” the young Proudmoore nudged his friend’s side. Flynn winced at the use of the pet name, knowing that he had quit calling Tandred the same since taking up with Mathias. He couldn’t bring himself to correct the man; they’d known each other too long.

The pair made small talk as they ducked into the harbormaster’s office so Flynn could drop off his berthing papers and have Cyrus send a message through to Taelia at Stormwind Keep that he’d be home that evening. They approached Inksprocket’s Inscriptions, the young Proudmoore holding the door open to allow Fairwind to cross the threshold first. The owner sat on a tall stool next to the counter, a thick tome in front of her as she transcribed runes onto a parchment with a deft hand. She puffed out an upward breath, attempting to get her wayward bangs out of her eyes as she looked up.

“Captain Fairwind,” the pink-haired gnome greeted brightly, setting down her quill. “Been a minute since you’ve waltzed your handsome butt in here. You in need of a touchup?”

“You flatter me, Zo’,” Flynn placed his hand over his heart and gave a small bow. “Not, a touch-up today, love. Looking to finally put down some ink on my left arm. If you’re not busy, that is.”

The gnome’s eyes glittered with delight. “M’not busy at all, not for my favorite patron. Sorry, Captain Proudmoore,” she added, glancing behind Fairwind at his companion.

“I see where your loyalties lie, you little minx,” Tandred teased, sidling next to Flynn and leaning his arms against the counter. Fairwind stifled a snort as he pulled his field journal from his pack, flipping to the sketch he had been working on for the better part of two nights at sea.

“I’m thinking inside the forearm? But it’s missing something,” he furrowed his brow. He didn’t fail to notice Tandred leaning over his shoulder to get a closer look as well.

Zooey turned the sketch around and pulled her glasses from atop her head to infront of her eyes to inspect the drawing thoroughly. She raised an eyebrow as she glanced up at Flynn.

“This is a lovers tattoo,” she remarked pointedly.

“Aye, that it is,” replied Fairwind, quietly. He chanced a quick look at the young Proudmoore, the answering look curious.

“Exquisite work, as usual, Captain. And I see what you mean, it could use something to tie it together.” Zooey tugged at her ear thoughtfully. “They’re a rogue, I’m assuming?” 

Flynn nodded. The gnome ran her small stubby finger along her bottom lip before setting it on the parchment, tracing the outline of the dagger crossing over the cutlass at the center of the piece. He watched her finger still on the lionhead at the hilt, her ears twitching in recognition and a grin pulling across her lips. 

“I think I may have just the thing,” she said with a snap of her fingers. She hopped down from the stool and scurried to the back wall of the shop, lined with filing cabinets. She pulled one open all the way and started thumbing through files.

Flynn felt a nudge to his side, pulling his attention from the tiny woman bustling along the back of the shop. Tandred stood with his head tilted and arms crossed against his chest.

“I thought you didn’t believe in lovers tattoos,” he chided. “That they tended to be some sort of bad omen.” 

“I used to, when I was hopping beds every other night.” Flynn gave a half-hearted shrug. “Things change when you’re sailing back to the same one for months on end.” The young Proudmoore clapped him on the shoulder. He caught the briefest twist of disappointment across his friend’s brow. 

“I’m going to let you get to it, then,” Tandred said softly as he kicked away from the counter. “You owe me a drink, mate.”

“I’ll be back ‘round in about a month. I’ll see what I can do.” With that, Tandred exited the shop and headed off in the direction back to the harbor.

“Here we are!” Zooey announced as she came back, climbing back onto her stool to be eye level with the captain. “Knew I had this in one of the archives somewhere. Now let me see,” she muttered, grabbing her quill. 

Flynn watched as she set to work, swiftly sketching out elegant runes as an inscription across the piece, nothing too flashy. A grin spread across his face, and he began to nod earnestly.

It was going to be _brilliant_.

@}—>—

Mathias emerged from the small loo in his flat, rubbing a towel against his head and steam pouring out behind him. He had tied a soft pair of Flynn’s sage green sleeping breeches low against his hips, and tried carefully to not step on the hems. A bell chimed in the distance from the Cathedral, marking the early afternoon. He pulled the pocket door closed and hung the towel on the hook nailed to the wood, turning to find two figures looking up from their hushed conversation.

Rell Nightwind and Valeera Sanguinar.

“I should head back. I still have quite a bit of paperwork to sort through,” Rell commented as he rose from the seat Mathias usually occupied. He gave a small nod to the blood elf and turned, placing his fist against his palm and giving a bow from his waist to the spymaster before slipping out the front door.

Mathias furrowed his brow at Valeera perched in the seat next to the hearth. “Is this supposed to mean that I’m forgiven?” he asked evenly.

Valeera clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and rolled it before pursing her lips. “Not even if you were the last snowball in hell,” she scoffed as she took a sip of wine.

The spymaster clicked his jaw and took the seat that Nightwind had previously occupied. “Glad have the old you back, Ms Sanguinar,” he muttered sarcastically. He gave a nod towards the bottle of Darkshire Apothica next to her. “Mind if I?”

“Are you certain that’s a wise idea, Shaw?”

“It’s not whiskey. A glass of wine won’t kill me,” he replied pointedly. 

Valeera huffed indignantly, but rose to get a glass all the same as Mathias pulled a small basket of provisions closer, finding quartered figs, a bundle of creamy brie and a package of picked roasted chicken. She sat the glass next to him sharply, along with a pair of plates and a dull butter knife, returning to her seat with a loaf of crusty bread. She grabbed the knife quickly and unwrapped the cheese as Shaw split the bread into chunks between them.

They ate in uncomfortable silence, only speaking to pass items back and forth between each other. Once they had both had their fill, Valeera finishing the last of the bread with a thick swipe of brie, Mathias inhaled a sharp breath and rose, clearing the detritus between the sink and the dustbin to be taken out in the morning. He quickly swiped at the table with a cloth without much concern if crumbs landed in the elf’s lap or not. 

He scratched a hand through his clean, mussed hair thoughtfully, crossing to his secretary desk in the corner to retrieve his deck of cards and coin purse used for Emperors. When he turned back to the table, the elf was turned in her chair, regarding the framed S.E.L.F.I.E.s above the hearth. He dropped the pouch on the lacquered wood, watching her flinch her attention back to him. He knew she had been staring at the one of himself and Ed, back when they were young and the revolts were only a blip on the horizon.

They played to pass the time, something to do where they didn’t have to try and deal with idle chatter, save for the few barbs slung this way or that, mainly when Valeera would try his patience or her luck at cheating. 

Queens. It was her tell. She always tried to cheat with Queens.

By the time the fifth bell of the day had chimed, Shaw had all but lost whatever tolerance he had been waning on. He barely registered the young pair coming up from the crawlspace cheerfully at that moment, Valeera making an attempt to throw another illegal queen out onto the table. Before they could blink, he had the tucked away hunting knife in hand, stabbing the card onto the table. 

“Stop. Fucking. _Cheating_ ,” he snarled dangerously, his hand still around the hilt of the blade.

It was then that the world stopped, the barest of moments. Valeera lunged and Taelia rushed to grab his waist. Anduin hurried to grab one of the emergency elixirs, but it was knocked out of his hand in the chaos. The spymaster bucked and kicked wildly, trying to throw the two women off of him. 

Mathias only saw red.

Anduin called forth the Light, letting it soothe between his palms before placing his hands on the sides of the older man’s head. He went slack in their arms, calmed and subdued, his breath evening out. Taelia managed to retrieve the vial, murmuring reassurances until he accepted the solution, the edges of his adrenaline working the elixir through him.

Mathias closed his eyes, Flynn’s smile in his mind’s eye as he drifted off.

@}—>—

Flynn opened the door to the flat with a sigh of relief at being home. _Home_ , he thought, his heart full. He dropped his sea-bag under the coat hooks and had started to take off his greatcoat when he startled at the sound of a cleared throat. 

“Welcome home,” Taelia said softly from the table, cradling a glass of wine at her temple. Mathias was nowhere to be found. Flynn’s eyes dropped to the knife protruding from the lacquered wood to the side of her.

“What happened?” he asked wearily, shucking his coat to hang behind him. 

“We didn’t check the tunnel. He had to have snuck things in when we weren’t lookin’. This was tucked under a chair,” she gestured to the blade, “and we found two empty whiskey bottles and a pair of daggers in the bookcase upstairs. Oh, and he’s been tossing out the elixirs. There’s a pretty stain on the awning under your bedroom window.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed, crossing over to drop heavily in the chair adjacent to her in front of the hearth. He scrubbed his hands down his face, pulling at the coarse thatch of hair on his chin. 

“Anduin talked to the doc,” she began. “He said that if he hasn’t been taking them this whole time, we really shouldn’t push it. Just keep some of the stronger ones readily available if something happens again, or if he’s having trouble sleeping.” Taelia gave a short shrug, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “There really haven’t been any incidents before today. I think Valeera set him off. She took off somewhere, to my knowledge. Anduin doesn't seem particularly concerned so I don't think we should worry.”

Flynn heaved a sigh, reaching out to take the girl’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Tae. I shouldn’t have had to make him your responsibility. I should have pushed off the contract. I should have told Cyrus I couldn't go, not now.”

Taelia rolled her eyes at him. “You know that Mathias is just as much family as you are. You don’t have to apologize for that. You can 'should have' all you want. He'll be alright, just needs some time. And _you_.” She paused, looking down at his bandaged arm. “The fuck did you do?” she squawked, lifting her eyes quickly with distress.

“It’s not what you’re thinkin’,” Flynn replied. “I stopped into Inksprocket’s before coming home.”

“Yeah? New ink?” she asked, the beginnings of a smirk unfolding across her lips. The pirate hummed with a nod. “Can I see?”

The captain returned her smile and shook his head. “Not until he does.”

“Alright then,” she conceded. “You should go on up. He should be awake soon, if he isn’t already. Don’t be too hard on him, love.” Taelia lifted from her seat as she drained her glass. She bent down and kissed her best friend’s forehead. “We’ll make ourselves scarce for a few days. If you need anything, we’re just through the tunnel.”

Flynn glanced over to the spiral staircase in the corner as the girl disappeared through the trapdoor. He took a deep breath, lifting from his seat and crossing the room in a few long-legged strides, making his way up the stairs and gently entering the bedroom he shared with the spymaster. Just as Taelia had predicted, Mathias was awake and sitting up in the darkness, his head hung and watching his hands. 

“The lass told you what happened, yeah?” the spymaster muttered, not lifting his head to meet the captain’s eyes.

Flynn kicked off his boots and sat down next to him, taking one of his hands and threading his fingers through Shaw’s.

“You’ve been a right shit, by the sounds of it. How’re you feeling?”

“Groggy,” Mathias admitted, his voice thick with sleep. “I’m sorry, I bro—”

“Oh, shut your face, mate,” Flynn intervened. “You did no such thing and m’not upset. No more elixirs unless you absolutely need one.” He furrowed his brow, untangling his hand to tug at the breeches covering his lover’s legs. “Are these mine?” he asked questioningly.

Shaw clicked his jaw. “Mine are in the wash.”

Flynn contemplated that a moment. “Taelia does our wash every time she’s here. There’s no way you have dirty laundry.” A salacious grin played on his lips. “You were wanting me to get into those, weren’t you.”

“I missed you,” Mathias confessed with a whisper. The captain regarded him as his eyes fell on the bandage. “What happened?” he asked, lifting his eyes to his lover.

Fairwind bit his bottom lip through his smile. “S’a present.” He held out his arm to give the spymaster better access. “Go on, then. Open it,” he encouraged. 

Carefully, Mathias let the knot loose and unwrapped the linen cloth, revealing the freshly inked tattoo across the inside of Flynn’s forearm. At the center was a perfect depiction of the captain’s cutlass crossed behind the spymaster’s dagger, the lionhead blazed in gold ink. A bed of white roses grazed the edges of the blade, and just there, ghosting the background in a light sea-green silhouette, was Ed’s sword, the Cruel Barb, as beautiful as the last time he had seen it in VanCleef’s hand. 

“It’s us,” the captain confirmed softly. “I told you that I wanted to get to know both of you, and you’ve done that. You’ve let me in. He’s a part of me now, too.” 

“This inscription,” Mathias said as he ran a finger reverently along the golden runes. “It’s the Glyph of Safe Fall, isn’t it?”

“Nice catch there, _Spymaster_.”

“Wasn’t it decommissioned ages ago?”

“Aye, Inksprocket’s a gem. She keeps records on all of them,” he explained. “It’s to remind me to always catch you when you fall.”

“Flynn, I don’t know what to say.”

The captain took his lover’s face between his hands adoringly. “Mathias,” he breathed, I lo—”

Flynn couldn’t complete the word, the spymaster having surged forward to capture his lips in a hungry kiss, all teeth and tongue and _Tides be damned_. He fumbled for the drawer in the nightstand beside him, pulling out the little pot of slick as Mathias finally pulled away from him, resting their foreheads together.

“I trust you,” he whispered, puffing hot breaths against Shaw’s moustache. “More than anythin’ in this world, I fucking trust you.” He placed the jar in his lover’s hand, closing his fingers over it.

“I trust you, too,” Mathias replied, leaning in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I did have a bit of fun with this one at least with some of the lighter scenes, initially setting out to have Mathias on a healing path. It was still quite a bit painful, but I have the next one lined up to be a bit on the silly side, so not as much on the angst. I hope you guys like fairytales.
> 
> I know that this whole piece is a bit of a touchy subject, one that I'm not quite personally familiar with, nor am I no way versed in handling a situation like this (kind of like my Flynn). I went with my gut and Mathias' feelings as much as I could. I apologize if any of this felt insensitive or unnatural, I was still trying to keep with the mentality of a medieval realm and how I felt the content would work with the characters as I've worked with them in this series. 
> 
> Comments appreciated and welcomed, and they let Mathias be on top ^.~


End file.
